


a touch and a thought (and they were gone)

by pineapplefork



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Genderfluid Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Gets a Hug, Multi, Mutual Pining, Neurodivergent Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Neurodivergent Martin Blackwood, Non-binary Martin Blackwood, Polyamory, Slice of Life, Tim Stoker Has ADHD (The Magnus Archives), Trans Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), a few actually!, boys go dress shopping and it's almost a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29173263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplefork/pseuds/pineapplefork
Summary: When Tim and Jon's dress shopping trip doesn't go quite as planned, Jon decides it's time to take the matter into their own hands.*“Why do you want to shop for a dress, anyway?” Jon asks once they reach Tim’s preferred boutique.“I’m taking Martin out.”Oh.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62
Collections: RQW Gift Exchange Jan. 2021





	a touch and a thought (and they were gone)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [futurearmadillomother](https://archiveofourown.org/users/futurearmadillomother/gifts).



> Hi! these three together are the bane of my existence<3  
> Hope you enjoy:DD
> 
> See end notes for detailed CW and a disclaimer about writing ND characters!  
> For now, though, this fic contains depictions of:  
> -sensory overload (skippable!)  
> -anxiety  
> -characters taking ADHD medication

“Boss!”

Jon’s shoulders tense. They do not turn to look at their subordinate. “Can I help you?”

“Will you go kayaking with me?”

“That’s hardly professional, Tim.” They do their best to go back to their papers. That becomes difficult when Jon’s desk suddenly becomes Tim’s seat. 

“What about rock climbing?”

“No.” Jon thinks Tim does this on purpose, to annoy them.

“Dress shopping?”

Jon opens their mouth, closes it again. A couple moments of silence. A thousand thoughts slam into their head at once:  _ dress _ shopping? Does Tim—? Why would he—? When—? Do they have time—? Oh, Jon was supposed to get their coat from the cleaner’s today, weren’t they? Or had that been yesterday? 

It’s while Jon struggles to filter through everything that Tim takes one look at his frazzled boss, curly hair spilling out of his bun, glasses askew and eyes unfocused and decides that he ought to take matters into his own hands.

“Boss.”

“Can I help you?” Jon’s mouth moves before they regain awareness of their surroundings. It’s an automatic response which has them feeling a little embarrassed, but Tim just smiles.

“Come dress shopping with me.”

“That’s not—”

Tim snorts. “Yes, not professional, we know. Come with me as my friend, not as my

boss.”

Jon feels the urge to stim, so they do. They tap their right hand against their thigh, glad to have picked their softest trousers today. It feels nice. Tim doesn’t say anything until they do. 

“Okay,” they say.

“Thanks, Jon. We’ll meet up after work?” Tim hops down from their desk and asks this while making his way out of Jon’s office. Jon nods, trying to make some sense out of the papers on his desk. “Cool, see you then!” he says, exits and pulls the door shut behind him. Jon picks out the next statement, skims its contents and brings the tape recorder closer to them. It’s easy to get sucked into recording — it’s surprisingly engaging, even if tiring. They don’t even notice that the lunch break passes and they’re still absorbed in their work. 

***

“Why do you want to shop for a dress, anyway?” Jon asks once they reach Tim’s preferred boutique. It’s quaint, they have to give it that. Quaint and the owner does trans-inclusive cuts for diverse body types, which is nice, they guess. The dresses they used to wear always felt too loose or too tight in all the wrong places.

“I’m taking Martin out.”

Oh. Are they together? They thought Martin was into  _ them _ , not Tim. Could he be into both? Or maybe Tim’s taking him out as a friend? Jon waits for the rest of the explanation, realises it’s not coming and stares at Tim, confused and slightly deflated. Tim’s hands browse the dress racks while he talks.

“You know he doesn’t like wearing tuxedos, right?”

“I guess?” Jon vaguely recalls a conversation involving Elias and dress codes.

“They make him feel a little dysphoric, but I promised I’d take him out somewhere fancy. If I don’t wear a tux, he probably won’t feel as out of place without one, either.” Jon hears Tim’s words, but their eyes are focused on the various patterned evening dresses Tim keeps pulling out, examining, then either putting back on the hangers or draping across his arm. “I personally think he rocks them, but he says he feels weird when he wears masculine clothes next to me. Guess because I pass? Dunno.” Jon’s surprised at how predominantly queer the staff is at the Institute. They’ve seen the board of directors — they’re pretty sure it’s not made up of the type of people to put diversity policies into place, but he digresses. Tim is talking. “...that being a closeted theatre kid makes you immune to bigotry, right?” He laughs. Jon has no idea why, they barely caught any of that. Tim doesn’t seem bothered. “Oh, sorry, went off again. I think I’m gonna go for the changing rooms, you want anything?”

Jon does their best not to let their sixteen types of anxiety seep through their answer: “Uh, no, I’m just looking.” Tim smiles and walks off, leaving Jon alone among the clothing racks.

It’s all a bit of a blur, from then on.

Tim takes his time.

Jon… Jon struggles.

When their thoughts don’t fly from Tim to Martin to Tim and Martin together to why

the three of them won’t just get together already to the tens of reasons that would be inappropriate for a workplace, their mind focuses on their environment. 

It’s not their favourite place to be, if they’re honest. The store itself seems small and

cramped now; they try not to let the smell of a too-strong lavender cleaner bother them too much. The attempt is frail, at best. They look for a place to sit. All the seats are taken. They look for the changing rooms, realise that they have no idea where to go and panic a little bit. Why did they let Tim convince them into coming here? They have to get their coat from the cleaner’s. Their fingers hurt. Why do their fingers hurt? Jon drags their focus back to themselves, notices they’ve been chewing their fingernails again. They try to stop. They pick at the seams on their jacket instead. They’ve picked the soft trousers today, but the jacket is a hand-knitted woollen one that they got from Martin for Hannukah that Jon honestly kind of hated at first. It’s very pretty, but clothing gifts have always been hit or miss with them: this one’s fabric is scratchy, keeps them warm when they don’t want to be and while blue and white is a thoughtful colour choice, it absolutely does not suit them — a fact which only makes Jon more self-conscious.

They wore it once at work, on laundry day. It was terribly uncomfortable, but Tim mentioned how happy Martin had been when he’d seen Jon wear it. Jon hadn’t even noticed before it was pointed out to them, and… To be frank, Martin’s smile was worth wearing the jacket again. Jon would even say that wearing long sleeves under it on especially cold days was tolerable.

Now, though, it makes their skin crawl. They try to drive their attention away from it,

only to make it worse. The lights hurt their eyes, they can feel loose hair strands grazing his face, it’s all... They feel bad. Their head hurts. Jon wishes his brain would just  _ stop— _

Jon doesn’t process Tim’s presence near them or his words. Tim understands this and feels a little disappointed with himself for leaving his friend alone in an unfamiliar, busy place. He shuffles his feet for a few moments, unsure. 

“Jon? I’m ready. Do you want to leave?” he asks, voice gentle.

Jon nods. 

“All right. Can you talk?”

They shake their head.

“No problem, then.” Tim tries for an easy-going, disarming smile. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Tim expects the shrug and is grateful that Jon can answer him. “I’m going to stop talking now,” he quips, a shaky hint of humour in his voice. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.” 

A few quiet moments pass.

When they eventually exit the boutique, Jon insists on not going back to the Institute just yet. Tim is more than happy to oblige, especially when they find a park bench in an area quiet and shaded enough that both of them can breathe a little. Jon buys them both boba tea, which Tim cheerily accepts. He pretends not to realise that his boss feels the need to apologise for needing a break. Words of reassurance sit on his tongue, yet Tim feels unable to form actual syllables, no matter how hard he tries. It’s ironic, that the one time he  _ can  _ shut up, it’s when he should probably say something,  _ do  _ something to show Jon they’re not alone.

When he eventually remembers, it’s out of the blue. He searches around in the pockets of his hoodie and quickly finds what he’s looking for. “Here,” he says, drawing Jon’s attention. “Would these help?”

Jon looks at Tim’s outstretched hand, at the small bottle of pills he’s presented them with. It takes them a while to process what kind of bottle it is, but when they do, it’s—

“Are these stimulants?”

Tim smiles. “Yeah. I know I usually get fidgety at work, ADHD and all. Noticed you use the same brand, but God knows we forget to take them.” Tim shrugs and does his best not to show how awkward he feels. Most people usually don’t carry extra pills for their boss, he knows. He and Martin already fawn over Jon enough when they’re a few drinks in during their regular pub crawls and he really doesn’t need his boss suspecting  _ two  _ of their subordinates have... taken a liking to them.

Jon stares at Tim for a second and gently takes the plastic bottle from him. They fiddle with the cap and Tim pointedly does not fixate on how pretty their fingers are. 

“I did forget to take mine today,” they mumble. 

Tim doesn’t fight it this time, he easily falls back into his casual nonchalance. “See,

boss? Told ya I can be useful.” His tone is deliberately light-hearted, but the intensity with which Jon regards him when they reply throws his head and heart into a jumble.

“You’ve always been useful, Tim.” Shivers pass through his body at the words and he struggles not to lose his focus on… Jon. He wants to say it, he really wants to tell them how he feels, it’s completely overwhelming. Jon isn’t looking at him. They pop off the cap, swallow a pill with tea, close it again; the movements are mechanical, practised. Tim knows these movements better than he wishes, but it warms something in him to see this familiarity mirrored in someone like Jon, whose ideal version of themselves is the embodiment of aloof,  _ professional _ detachment. 

“Tim. Can you hug me?” 

It’s funny how juxtaposition works.

Jon’s voice is gruff when they ask, heavily-accented like they force it whenever they feel out of their depth. Tim looks at them, conjures the image of this (hardly) ideal version of this person and feels a sudden pang of loss. Jon was his friend, back in research, before they were his boss. He smiles, though, and hopes his eyes crinkle like it’s genuine. “Sure, boss. Always willing to lend a hand.” His wink feels forced, empty, but the sigh Jon lets out when he drapes a heavy arm over their shoulder makes something in him bloom. They cuddle into him, closing their eyes and occasionally sipping from their cup. Tim knows they prefer steady, predictable touch and fights the urge to skim his fingers across Jon’s arm. They make a pretty picture, he’s sure, and Jon says nothing about how hard his heart is beating. He hums to himself. He never did get those dresses, after all.

***

Jon is not oblivious, all right?

He’s  _ not.  _

He may not be the best at holding conversations, or telling jokes or not taking things literally, but he’s got eyes, god damn it. 

One person crushing on you might be hard to spot, but two? It suddenly becomes a circus. Sasha holds the single available brain cell while the rest of them flail their arms and run around in circles. It’s maddening.

Jon is  _ not  _ oblivious. On the contrary, he thinks he can be a little cunning when he wants something. Which is why, probably, he goes back dress shopping. 

This time, he’s wearing headphones and comfy clothes. It’s the middle of the week, too, which means there aren’t as many people around in the boutique. He’d quite liked the selection of dresses the last time Tim took him there, even though the store itself didn’t hold the greatest of memories for him. Still, this was important. It was a good day, too! No, he had to make the most out of it.

It doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for. The dress is black, simple and sleek and it goes perfectly with his hair. He twirls a little in front of the changing room mirror and a soft laugh escapes his lips. He’s giddy, sue him! Dress shopping is fun when you can stomach it. He hopes Tim and Martin are going to like it, but he doesn’t dare to think too much about their possible reactions lest he overthinks himself into a wall and gets completely discouraged. 

It’s relatively easy, from then on. The cashier is especially friendly and doesn’t use any honorifics for him (small blessings), the walk back to the Institute is peaceful and nobody sees him when he enters his office, extra bag in hand. 

Jon only told Sasha about his plan, who proclaimed her availability to help so enthusiastically that he would’ve guessed she’s the one with ulterior motives, not him. She (somehow, Jon’s still not sure how) pulls just the right strings to get him, Tim and Martin set up for “Archives Team Bonding Night” without her absence arousing suspicion. Jon’s been warned that his colleagues might be a little surprised at his sudden willingness to socialise in groups, but he really doesn’t see any other way to do this properly.

And if he hadn’t been sure before, the way the both of them promptly correct themselves when he mentions it’s not a ‘they’, but a ‘he’ day today only serves to cement his decision. It’s a brief moment at the supermarket checkout, their arms filled with wine bottles and snacks, but excitement courses through him at the knowledge that he’s not only heard, but  _ listened to.  _

It’s Tim’s apartment, which both he and Martin know better than Jon, so he lets them do their thing in preparing everything for the movie they wanted to watch. Being in Tim’s apartment in such a casual situation reminds him of his research days and he looks back on the memories with nostalgic fondness. Martin, Jon finds, is always a welcome addition. 

He doesn’t wait for the perfect moment to change, he just… leaves, at one point, and comes back in his dress, hair pulled up in the messy bun that Sasha always says Martin stares extra hard at during lunch and wearing his favourite pair of fluffy socks. He hoped to dress down a little: even though Tim and Martin have kept their relatively formal work clothes, Jon’s outfit isn’t… anything along those lines.

It isn't’ anything along those lines and it shows, when Tim and Martin finally notice him. 

They don’t say anything for a few nerve-wracking seconds, during which Jon softly scratches at the scars on his arms. 

Martin, much to Jon’s surprise, is the one who speaks first. “I thought you didn’t like wearing dresses?” Martin is generally quiet when he speaks and has gotten used to Jon avoiding eye contact in favour of turning his ear towards him to understand better. This time, the question rings loud and clear in Jon’s head, but he still can’t bring himself to raise his eyes to his friends’. Their reaction is disappointingly lukewarm, at best, and Jon feels his earlier confidence recede completely. 

Tim notices the moment Jon’s gaze drops to the floor. His mind focuses on a barely comprehensible string of thoughts, on nothing and everything at once until things start to click into place. Sasha smoothly extracting herself from their plans, Jon’s strange, hot-and-cold behaviour the past week, the sudden distance he took when he said he’d be going out with Martin in contrast to their moment of intimacy after he offered Jon his stimulants. Even today, his willingness to let Tim and Martin set up movie night, Jon’s quiet earnestness and expectation when he emerged looking like  _ that _ , when he knows that dresses make Tim’s knees go weak… 

Even Martin had mentioned he’d noticed their boss was paying him more attention than usual, being extra polite and talking to him about his interests even when he’d normally ignore him completely. 

Was that…? That had to mean  _ something,  _ right? Jesus, he hopes he isn’t just projecting.

Tim’s heart is hammering again, much like it always does near Jon. He opens his mouth, 

takes a deep breath and goes for it: “Jon, are you courting us?” 

Jon’s still looking at the ground. His expression is forlorn, yet determined. “Yes,” he says simply, with finality that leaves no room for interpretation.

Martin, who Tim assumed had been entirely consumed by gay panic, squeaks an uncertain “ _ Us _ ?” Ah, right. There’s more than two of them. Tim knows not everyone’s fantasies include three-way hand holding and throuple’s Halloween costumes, but honestly believes Martin could be persuaded. Jon nods an affirmative answer, so Martin continues. “Do you mean… Is  _ this _ for us?”

Jon nods again. Tim feels the lump in his throat acutely and is sure that Martin’s not doing so much better, judging by the deep shade of red his cheeks are quickly turning.

The seconds that follow are tense for Jon. Even if he feels a little heated and still can’t properly get a hold of themselves, they wait for…an answer, anything to latch on to. Tim and Martin are supposed to give an answer, right? To tell Jon if they feel the same? They were so sure of themselves with this plan, they didn’t really think of what would come… after.

Tim takes one look at Martin’s besotted expression and at Jon’s expectant face and nods once to himself, settling on a decision. 

“Feel free to say no, but I’d like the both of you to come here,” Tim proclaims, spreading his arms wide in invitation. Martin and Jon look at Tim, then at each other, then at the ground. It’s so adorably synchronised that Tim can’t help but snort when they simultaneously decide that yes, a classic Stoker Cuddle would be very nice right now and scramble towards him.

The hug is nice, in Tim’s opinion.

“Is this a ‘Yes, Jon, the both of us like you back and would love to go on a date with you sometime?’” Jon eventually asks.

Martin rests his nose on the top of their head and smiles into their hair. “That depends, was this an invitation?”

“Oh, good Lord. Of course it was, what did you  _ think _ ?” Jon’s attempt at indignant snark is slightly overshadowed by the fact that he’s currently buried in Martin and Tim’s chests and his voice comes out muffled.

Tim laughs. “You haven’t actually asked us anything, boss. Don’t know what answer you were expecting.”

Jon groans. Tim and Martin laugh. “Well, Jon,” Martin begins, “According to my trusted sources, I think both Tim and I would be honoured to go on a date with you. Isn’t that right, Timothy?”

Tim doesn’t even get to answer until Jon’s suspicious “What sources? Is this something you've talked about?” steals his thunder. Martin is holding in a laugh while Jon squints up at Tim as if trying to solve an especially hard puzzle.

He sighs. It’s no use fighting when Jon gets curious. “I may or may not have mentioned to our dear Martin here that I like you.”

Martin snorts. Actually  _ snorts,  _ the traitor. “More like monopolised entire conversations so you could talk about how pretty and smart Jon is.”

“Shut up, like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing” Tim quips.

“Oi—”

“Are we actually going to watch that movie now? I come to one of these gatherings once and you have to make it all about yourselves,” Jon remarks dryly, his particular brand of sarcasm making Martin and Tim share a look of fond exasperation. He plops down in the middle of the sofa and grabs the remote to browse the available films, the picture of indifference. When the both of them intentionally sit in opposite corners, as far away from Jon as possible, they look to their right, then to their left, only to then drape themselves over the two men. Head in Martin’s lap, feet in Tim’s, Jon hits play on a sci-fi comedy they’ve already seen and doesn’t complain when their boyfriends (?) eventually shuffle closer, intertwining their fingers over their stomach.

It’s not perfect, they think, but it’s theirs. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!!  
> While I'm familiar with ADHD symptoms, this is the first time I set out to write a character as autistic! Hope I did it justice and please feel encouraged to comment if there's anything I missed, should or shouldn't have included or just thoughts about the portrayal of autistic characters in general! Research can only get you so far when you're only surrounded by NTs and I did my best to be respectful and as authentic as possible without sensitivity readers, but the last thing I would want is for someone to feel misrepresented or disrespected in this fic. :)
> 
> Kudos and bookmarks are appreciated, but comments make me want to write more!
> 
> detailed CW:  
> -Jon has sensory issues which are worsened by his general anxiety: the paragraph in question describes feelings of helplessness, restlessness, pain due to strong scents, bright lights, uncomfortable clothes and nail-biting. skip from "It’s not their favourite place to be, if they’re honest", to "Jon doesn’t process Tim’s presence near them or his words", at which point it switches to Tim's POV and describes the aftermath of this event. Jon is non-verbal for a bit but they leave the place soon and calm down. If you want to skip to until they get out of the situation completely and just chill outside, go to "A few quiet moments pass." 
> 
> Feel free to ask me if there's anything else I need to tag!


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